Francine had panic attacks at first, breaking into crying fits and nightmares at the drop of a hat. So desperate for relief, Francine had gone numb, f...eling nothing. That numbness had concealed a smoldering rage that sought out expression.At first, she’d sought that expression through pain of her own. She’d sought out a cutter, a woman who got her kicks by slicing subs with a knife. Actually, her knife designs were quite lovely on Francine’s breasts and thighs. The scars on her back, the result. Within seconds they were a tangle of limbs shimmying to a position of comfort. Feet and fingers entwined, as he pressed his crotch into hers, the widening of her eyes as kisses were swapped was the reaction he was looking for. She reached down and ran the flat of her palm over his stomach as she searched for his cock, curious to feel its size. Just as her fingers reached his boxer shorts, his hands flew out and grabbed her wrists in an iron grip, a sly grin spread across his face. Another. More

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